


Overtime

by travels_in_time



Category: NCIS
Genre: Comment Fic, Gen, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-04 23:05:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6679081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/travels_in_time/pseuds/travels_in_time
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony puts in extra hours to make sure a case ends well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Overtime

**Author's Note:**

> For the "comment_fic" community on LiveJournal. Theme was time travel; prompt was "NCIS, any, overtime." (And yes, I know The Thingy doesn't work that way. Shhhh.)

The first thing Tony did when he got back was strip off everything he was wearing, bag it, and step into the shower. He'd burn the bag later. Or weigh it down and toss it into the Potomac. Didn't matter, really. He set the water temperature as high as he could handle and leaned against the wall, rubbing his eyes in exhaustion, trying to plan the rest of his day. 

He could have slept at some point, he supposed. There was no reason…his eyes flew open as the barrage of images in his head started up again. No, he couldn't have slept. Not yet. 

He washed his hair twice, scrubbed under his nails until they were sore. He needed to face this day with no distractions. Once out of the shower, he picked out his nicest shirt and best suit. It would be a beautiful morning, but the clouds would roll in around noon and a short afternoon thunderstorm, typical for the season, was forecast. _Puddles everywhere, reflecting the sun that had come back out; the ground slick with mud, not dried yet--_ He grimaced, picturing the dry-cleaning bill. It couldn't be helped. Neither could the shoes, a pair from the back of his closet that had more to do with utility than style. _He lunged forward, slipped on the treacherous ground, went down--_ He got dressed, feeling as if he were armoring himself for battle. 

It was still dark when he arrived at work. There weren't many people there at this time of day--night, more correctly, he supposed--and the ones who were had been there way too long already; they grunted at him in greeting, or ignored him entirely. The bullpen was dark, save for a few desk lights here and there. He sat down at his desk and got to work. 

The sun was flooding through the skylight by the time he uploaded everything and printed out the final reports for his own reference, stretching as he stood. Other agents were starting to arrive, some chirpy, some still in zombie mode. He called out greetings as he went through his co-workers' go-bags. Extra ammunition for everyone, to start with. _"There's a kid in there. Cover me!"--_ Then extra energy bars and water bottles in his own bag, enough to share, because they wouldn't be stopping for lunch. He was certain that he could be annoying enough to ensure that, even if the information he'd carefully put together in the reports didn't spur quicker action. _A burst of gunfire from inside the barn. "Move, now!" More gunfire--_

He looked at his watch.  There was just time for one more thing, if he hurried. 

When Gibbs stepped off the elevator, Tony was leaning back precariously in his chair, feet propped on his desk, as he tossed wadded-up pieces of paper at McGee's trash can.  Gibbs made his way to his own desk, raising an eyebrow at the coffee that sat there, still steaming. 

"Two points!" Tony cheered as another piece of paper landed with a thump inside the trash can. 

Gibbs picked up the cup and took a large sip, sharp eyes taking in the pile of papers on Tony's otherwise neat desk, and the big display monitor that was already on and waiting.  "You got anything on our missing Marine, DiNozzo, or you just here early to work on your hook shot?" 

Tony swung his feet down and sat up hastily.  "I think so, Boss.  Something we might want to look into, at least."    He stood up and grabbed the remote, starting the presentation.  "McGee's report documenting the search we did at Hawkins' residence yesterday.  No recent photos anywhere, not even of his son." He clicked again, bringing up a badly damaged photo of a woman and a small child. " _But_ , Bishop found shredded photos in his trash and thought they might be worth a look. It'll take a while to get them all reconstructed, but Abby was able to put a few together for us last night." He clicked through a few more. "They're not the best, but you get the idea." Gibbs was at his shoulder now, watching carefully.   Tony turned to face him. "Hawkins' wife left him for his best friend.  The three of them had been close for years. Suddenly she packs up the kid, takes off, shacks up with the friend.  Not an unusual story, and they all seem to be getting along about as well as you'd expect, but then suddenly--probably no earlier than Wednesday, or the trash would have been gone already--he shreds all their pictures. Understandable for the ex-wife and the ex-friend, but the kid? It's like he wanted to wipe out anything to do with them." _Four bodies in the barn, in the end. One body outside, in the mud--_

"You think he started suspecting something was up with the kid?"  

"And then he disappeared."

Gibbs frowned.  "That's a hell of a leap, DiNozzo." 

"Maybe.  You know, I saw this movie once--"  Tony broke off at the sharp glance Gibbs gave him.  "Okay, never mind, but it got me thinking.  Abby wasn't in yet, so I called up one of the lab rats I used to know back in Baltimore. He put me in touch with a guy who works in a for-profit DNA testing clinic."  It hadn't been nearly that easy.  He'd called in a lot of favors to get someone to vouch for him, woken up a lot of people who hadn't exactly been happy about that, tracked down a lot of the wrong people before he got to the right person.  The entire eastern seaboard community of forensic specialists was going to need some extra caffeinating today.  "He couldn't tell me anything without a warrant, but he thinks it might be a good idea to get one.  For this lab right _here_."  He pointed the remote triumphantly as a webpage appeared on the screen, complete with an address and directions.  

"So he has suspicions, starts doing a little DNA testing on the boy?" Gibbs mused.  "When?" Tony could see him thinking ahead, coming to the right conclusions.

Tony shook his head.  "No idea until we get a warrant.  Hypothetically, strictly off the record, the results could possibly have been mailed to him approximately a week ago. Theoretically."  He stopped abruptly as Gibbs sent him a Look.

"He gets the results early this week. He shreds the photos on Wednesday. On Thursday, he goes UA."  Gibbs put the coffee down on his desk carefully.  "Where's the boy?"

 _One of the bodies in the barn is too small, heartbreakingly small, but he is already numb and the horror seems very far away, out of focus--_ "With his mom."

"And she's in Virginia." Gibbs glared at him as if were his fault. 

Tony nodded.  "Ex-bestie's family getaway. Cozy little farmhouse maybe an hour and a half away, weekend vacation, just the three of them all alone, in the middle of nowhere." He took a deep breath, and his stomach clenched.  "We were going to interview her this afternoon if Hawkins' friends didn't turn up any leads, but…Boss, I think we might not want to wait."

"Ya think, DiNozzo?"  Gibbs drained the rest of his coffee. "I'll go talk to the Director."  He looked expectantly at Tony.

"I'll give Bishop everything I've got, have her find enough cause to get a warrant and get on the DNA.  And I'll brief McGee, he'll go with us."

Gibbs nodded and headed upstairs as the elevator opened and Abby popped out. 

"Morning, Bossman!" she called after him.  He waved without looking back.  

She made a beeline for Tony, whacking him hard on the arm. He winced theatrically and rubbed at it; Abby liked to see results. "You know I have a tracker on you.  You'd better have a really good explanation, Mister!"  She looked him up and down.  The sharp suit and carefully styled hair would have distracted anyone else from the dark shadows under his eyes; Abby wasn't anyone else.  " _Please_ tell me you did not use The Thingy to hit on a girl and stay out all night and then come back here and catch up on all the paperwork that you should have done yesterday for this case and--" She caught sight of the empty cup, still on Gibbs' desk.  "--and bring Gibbs coffee so he wouldn't be mad at you--COFFEE, Tony, it's supposed to be for emergencies only and I realize that this may sound a little hypocritical, coming from me, but they trusted it to me, and I trusted it to you, and caffeine is not _actually_ an emergency--"

Tony squinted at her. "Do you even go here?" The elevator door opened again, and McGee came out, followed closely by Bishop; Tony lowered his voice.  "No, Abs, I didn't use The Thingy for any of that.  Well, okay, coffee and paperwork might have been involved, but not the rest of it."  

She took in the air of exhaustion that went with the dark shadows.  "Was it an emergency, Tony?" she asked anxiously. 

"It's not going to be," he said grimly.  Not if he had to step in front of the damn bullets himself.  It wouldn't come to that, though.  They were getting an early start, they knew what they might be walking into, and he was going to try his best to argue past Gibbs' well-known dislike of local LEOs to get someone out to the farm as quickly as possible.  A child might be in danger; Gibbs wouldn't put up much of a fight.

_Puddles everywhere, reflecting the bright blue sky; silver hair flecked with mud; eyes the same color as the sky, staring sightlessly up--_

He touched the chain at his neck, hidden behind his collar and tie; the tiny hourglass invisible inside his shirt.  "It's going to be a good day this time, Abs.  I promise."


End file.
